This Is Torturous

Coming up with the courage to actually take the time to lock myself in the bathroom with the pregnancy test was something that sounded so much easier said than done. You'd think finding out the outcome of something that could drastically change your life would be an easy thing to do. It was not.

The thought of being pregnant absolutely scared the living shit out of me. I was no where near ready to be a mother. Sure, I was responsible enough, but being responsible for another human being for as long as you/they were alive was something I was not ready for. I never thought of myself as maternal, especially seeing as I was so young. Really, though, this was the “normal” age to start having kids and getting married, but in my eyes, I was still that eighteen year old girl mourning the death of her best friend. I was still a baby and babies can't have babies.

I knew, though, that if I was actually with child, I would suck it up and deal with it, but I was still terrified to see the results. To see if I would have to put everything on hold because I would be bringing another life into the world. I wasn't ready for it.

“Bird,” I looked up from my unopened home pregnancy test box in my hands at my grandma's concerned face, “you've been staring at that box for a while. Don't you want to know what it'll say?” Gulping, I nodded slowly, flipping the box over, “Then why don't you take it?”

My eyes watered and I felt my throat constricting from how thick it felt, “I'm scared of what it's going to say.”

She looked at me sympathetically before sitting next to me at the table, “Honey, of course you are.”

“I feel so fucking shitty about everything, Gram. I can't even stomach the idea of getting married, yet here I am possibly pregnant, which is much more of a commitment than taking the last name of someone I want to spend the rest of my life with. I'm not ready to be a mom! How could I be if I have panic attacks every other fucking day?” I wiped hastily at my face that had tears running down it.

“Sparrow, there's a solution to your panic attacks. Go home and see a doctor to prescribe you anti-anxiety pills.” I knew she was right and would have to schedule an appointment with my old psychiatrist when I got back to Arizona.

“Now, as for you maybe being pregnant, you'll be fine. You might not even be. And if you are, I know you'll be a wonderful mother. You might not think you will, but I've seen you with kids, you're a natural. You're also very motherly to the people you love. You want the best for everyone and you don't have a bad bone in your body. You have a big heart and that's a good thing.

“I know you're scared about how drastically things are changing in your life in such a short amount of time, but I think it'll eventually die down if you let it. You keep psyching yourself out and keep letting your thoughts get the best of you. Every day, tell yourself you're okay because you are, or will be. You just need to have faith in yourself, Dear. Be okay with the changes. Welcome them. I know you do want to marry John. You eventually want to have kids. So what if it's happening now rather than later? Everything will work itself out.”

My head was reeling and my tears had stopped. Gram was right. I just needed to have faith in myself. I only wished it was as easy as it sounded.

Standing from the kitchen table chair, I sent her a half hearted smile, “I think I'm ready.” I said with a shaky breath.

“That's the spirit!”

The ten minutes it took for the tests to be done were the longest ten minutes of my life. Almost longer than the ten it took for the ambulance to get to the venue the night Erika died. My stomach was doing flips and I almost threw up a few times. But when the time came and those ten minutes were up, I rushed to see the results of the two sticks I peed on.

My heart dropped when I saw one plus sign and one negative. “What the hell?!” I exclaimed in anger. How could they both say something different? Was I pregnant or not? How could I still not know? I was back at square one and that frustrated me to no end.

Tears of frustration pricked at the back of my eyes. I suddenly felt shitty all over again.Grabbing the two tests, I pulled the bathroom door open and went in search of my grandmother. It didn't take me long until I found her in the living room, watching something on HGTV.

“One says I am and one says I'm not.” Her mouth dropped slightly and her eyes went wide at my outburst, “H-H-How can I be pregnant and not at the same time?!” I was losing it. I was angry, frustrated, tired, and scared. I was never going to catch a break. “W-we need to go get another test.” I was pacing, trying to make sense of what was going on.

Gram had gotten up from the recliner and was making her way over to where I was melting down in front of her eyes. She had never witnessed me so close to the brink of losing my sanity. I really felt like I could collapse into a mute mess, rocking back and forth in two seconds flat. “Bird. Birdie,” She put her hands on my shoulders to step me, “It's going to be fine. Sometimes store bought tests don't work. Why don't you schedule an appointment for when you get home? That way you'll know for sure if you are or not.”

My eyes widened at her suggestion, “How can I wait that long?!”

“You will be fine. Call right now and schedule it.”

I took a deep breath and nodded, “Okay, you're right. Maybe I can get an appointment for Tuesday morning.” She let me go and I moved to the staircase so I could go up to the guest room to retrieve my phone.

I was confirmed for an appointment at 8:30 AM on Tuesday, January 31. I was right back where I started, feeling as horrible as before. The more I thought about it, the more I realized how badly I was treating my body. If I was pregnant, the fetus wasn't getting any kind of nutrients which was the worst thing I could be doing for it. I needed to eat and sleep. For the sake of the baby I could or could not be carrying.

I managed to sleep for four hours which was better than nothing. I also happened to keep down a piece of french toast and some fruit, so that was good. I was trying to be better and baby steps was definitely the way to start.

Eric texted me at around two, asking about dinner. I was reading – something I rarely got to do – Unbearable Lightness by Portia de Rossi when the text came in and was glad for a distraction from the sad girl with an eating disorder I was reading about.

We settled on meeting at six-thirty, after they were done in the studio. With the help of my grandma, we chose a small barbecue place she enjoyed and swore by. Not wanting to get too wrapped up in the mind of Portia – who was a walking trainwreck – I decided to try and take another nap, feeling exhaustion overwhelming my rundown body.

I tossed and turned with Get Him to the Greek playing on HBO to try and lull me to sleep. In the end, I watched the whole movie and half of (500) Days of Summer before I got up to get ready for dinner.

I showered and got rid of some of the tension in my body as a result of the hot water. Once I strapped on a bra and threw on the pajama pants I was wearing before, along with a black spaghetti strapped undershirt, I started on my hair and makeup.

Pulling out my blow dryer and round brush, I blow dried my bangs into place before doing the rest of my long, dark hair. Once it was dry, I twisted it up and secured it against my head with a clip, pushing my bangs back with a headband as well. All so I could get started on my face.

My iPod part of my iPhone was playing Regina Spektor's “Blue” as I lathered my face with moisturizer and primer. It was ridiculous how much you had to put on your face before it was ready. Being a girl sucked.

When I was “buffing” the foundation into my skin and making it blend with the concealer, Regina Spektor's song ended and “I'm Sorry” by The Maine came on. It was a song John had written about the situation we went through at the beginning of 2011. That seemed like such a long time ago rather than just a year. The song made me upset the first time I heard and listened to the lyrics.

“I'm fucked up again. I shouldn't drive tonight, but I keep thinking of you. I hurt you again. I shouldn't lie tonight, so the next few words are true.” I sang along, twirling my brush into the loose translucent powder. It hurt to listen to John's voice, but I couldn't turn it off.

I felt like all of the lyrics were the things I wanted to say to him. Funny how some things worked out that way.

“I'm sorry I'm not what you wanted. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I let you down.”

I willed myself not to cry as I thought back to how horrible I felt – and still felt – when I first heard those lines. It made me angry to hear him say that. I'd always wanted him.

I remembered when he sat me down to play the song for me after he got back from El Paso. I had been bugging him to play me something and I guessed he had been wanting to show me it before they played it at the Invisible Children benefit they were scheduled to perform at.
*
“Okay, Ladybird, I'll play you something.” John smiled. We were sitting in the living room late one night after a really good day hanging out with some of his friends.”I'm only playing it because we plan on playing it at the Invisible Children show and I wanted you to hear it before then.” My brow furrowed at his reasoning, but didn't question it.

He got up from the couch to get his acoustic guitar from the bedroom. When he came back, I was patiently waiting in the spot he left me.

“I wrote this song in January, right after New Years and everything with Audry, and Landon breaking up with you.” I grimaced, “It's called “I'm Sorry”,” He began strumming then opened his mouth to sing, closing his eyes as he did so, “I'm fucked up again...”

I frowned throughout the whole thing. In fact, I was still frowning when he was done and waiting for my reaction.

“How'd you like it?” He asked hesitantly.

“I liked it, but it made me so sad.” I confessed.

He removed the guitar from his lap and leaned it against the loveseat, “I knew you would be, which is why I wanted to personally play it for you before you heard it at the show.” His calloused hands engulfed mine and squeezed.

“I hate that you felt like that back then.” I said, running my thumb across his pointer finger, “I was so stupid.”

He shook his head, “You were not.” His left arm came up and wound around the back of my neck, pulling me closer to him. I leaned into his touch as he pressed a kiss to my head.

“Yes, I was. I should have never gone out with that asshole.”

“Well, I should have kept better contact with you, so you didn't feel the need to.”

I pressed my face into his chest, “I love you so much.” I said before placing a tender kiss onto his bare skin seeing as he wasn't wearing a shirt due to the scorching summer heat. It was nearing one in the morning, but it was still almost one hundred degrees outside.

“I love you, too. More than you could ever imagine.”
*
The boys of A Rocket to the Moon were already at the small restaurant when we arrived. They were sat at a booth along the edge of the room and had two open seats waiting for us. Andrew, Nick, and Eric were on one side, while Justin, me and Gram sat on the other.

Justin was already sitting all the way in the inside when we got there, so I slid in next to him and Gram after me. Nick sat across from me and Eric across from my grandma, leaving Andrew across from Justin.

“Hey, Guys.” I greeted with a genuine smile. I was so very delighted to see them all, “This is my grandma, Clementine. She's really cool, so don't think you have to be conservative around her.” They all laughed and introduced themselves to her, “”How's the new record coming along?” I questioned, making conversation.

The four of them looked between each other before Nick answered, “It's going good. We just got here last week, so we have a pretty good flow of things.” I nodded, letting him know I was listening, “We're working with this amazing producer who produces Carrie Underwood.”

I smirked at the information, “You guys would get a country producer.”

We went on, talking about their new album for a little bit before the focus was shifted to me.

“So, Sparrow,” Justin began from next to me, “what brings you to Nashville?”

I turned to look at my grandmother, who was giving me a look while tearing pieces of a biscuit apart to eat, “To see my grandma, of course.” I lied, placing a fake smile on my face.

“That's nice of you.” Andrew smiled and the others agreed.

“And I'm glad; I've been trying to get her to come out here ever since I moved here. She never listened, though.” I rolled my eyes at my grandma's words while the guys laughed.

“You have to keep busy while John's away somehow, right?” My stomach dropped as Eric mentioned about his best friend.

My smile faltered, “Yup.” I responded shortly then shoved the straw of my water into my mouth so I wouldn't have to talk anymore.

Eric's brow furrowed, but quickly relaxed, “When does that goon get home anyways?” He asked.

“Two weeks.” I answered.

“Then you guys are coming out to LA for the Ryan Adams show, right?” Nick asked.

My eyes widened. I had completely forgotten all about the mini vacation we were supposed to go on when he got home, “Uh,” I cleared my throat and recrossed my legs under the table, “yeah. Speaking of, how is Sawyer?” I switched topics quickly, wanting to avoid everything involving my fiance. This was a difficult task when I was having dinner with his best friend. Eric was shooting me weird looks, seeming not to be liking how little I was talking about John. Usually I'd do anything to talk about him, so I understood.

Nick's whole face lit up when I brought up his wife of three years, “She's great, we're great. She just booked her first magazine editorial for Nylon, so she's really excited for it. I think she said she's shooting the chick from Sleigh Bells.”

My jaw dropped, “I love her!”

Nick chuckled, “She said the same thing.”

“Who's Sawyer?” Gram asked in slight confusion.

“Oh, she's Nick's wife.”

Her eyes widened, “Oh, I must've missed your wedding band.” She peered over the table to get a better look at his left hand. He wasn't wearing one.

“Oh, I keep it on a chain.” Nick explained, pulling a silver chain from underneath his black Fleetwood Mac shirt, “So I can fool women like you into thinking I'm single.” He winked and we laughed while my grandma raised an eyebrow at him.

“Boy, you are way too young to be trying to charm me.” Genuine laughter spilled from my lips, “And much too tattooed.” I only laughed harder, “How old are you?” She questioned.

“I'll be 24 in July, Ma'am.” Nick answered, still amused with her.

“And you've been married for how long?”

“Three years as of January 16.” I would never get over how in love Nick and Sawyer were. Anytime they talked about each other, they were always so gushy. I guessed I used to be like that with John, before everything happened and my thoughts became my worst enemy. If I talked about him in any way other than impending doom, my mind immediately scolded me.

I was beginning to think I had a mental problem. Oh wait, it was commitment issues. I already lived with him, why couldn't I just make it official and slap his last name after mine? Why had I never had these creeping doubts before? Well, there was never a ring on my finger before. Why was I so scared, though? John had never done anything to make me think he would break my heart or trust. Granted, we had only been together for a year, but it was one of the best years of my life. I would never understand my heart or thought process.

“You okay, Sparrow?” Andrew asked, breaking me out of my thoughts.

I had been shredding my paper napkin with my knife with a very deep-in-thought look on my face that consisted of a creased brow and pursed lips. My head popped up when I heard my name and my face relaxed, “What? Oh, yeah. I'm fine.” Setting the knife down, I leaned back into the booth and folded my arms across my chest.

Gram looked at me sympathetically and patted my leg reassuringly. She knew where my head had wandered off to. I felt bad because she was trying so hard to get it through my head that things would be perfectly fine if I got married to John, but I was so hard-headed that none of it really stuck no matter how hard anyone tried or how much I wanted it to.

Eric was watching me. It was like he knew something was up with me, which was pretty likely since I was having trouble staying focused and it was showing.

I looked down, my stomach catching my eye, suddenly remembering that I could potentially be carrying a child. Placing my hand on my flat stomach, my breathing hitched and my eyes watered. Stop thinking about it.

How shitty would it be if you were pregnant and John left you? Just because he wants to marry you doesn't mean he's ready for a kid.

Stop it. You don't need to have another panic attack at dinner.

I inhaled a large breath through my nose and slowly let it out through my mouth. When I was settled down, I looked up and caught Eric's wide eyes. Quickly, I dropped my hand and broke his gaze, turning to look at Justin to see what he was doing.

The rest of dinner went by agonizingly slow and all I wanted to do was go back to my grandma's and lie in bed. I would have liked to go back there and sleep, but we all knew how that would turn out.

We were all walking out of the restaurant at ten to eight. It had gotten significantly cooler since we sat down and I cursed myself for having such thin skin. Burying my face into the scarf I was wearing, I wrapped my arms around my midsection and curled the end of my sleeves around my fingers.

“Hey, Sparrow?” I turned to look at Eric, who had been trailing behind me, “Can I talk to you for a second?”

Dread filled my gut. He was going to ask about my behavior. I just knew it.

“Bird?” Gram called out, half way to her Audi TT Coupe.

“I'll be right there, Gram.” I called back then looked at Eric again.

“I know it's not my business, well it kind of is because John's my best friend, but are you pregnant?”

I felt like I got the wind knocked out of me. It had only been asked twice, but I would never get used to the question.

I just stared at him, trying to keep my anxiety in check. He didn't need to see me have a panic attack, “I don't know.” I finally answered.

His brow furrowed, “You don't know? Have you taken a test? Does John know? Are you throwing up?” He rapidly shot questioned at me.

My head was spinning, “I took two tests. One said yes and the other said no. I go to the doctor on Tuesday. Yes, John knows. He was the one that brought it to my attention. I'm not throwing up, just nauseous.”

He gave me a sympathetic look, “Okay, well, we get home on the seventh, which is before John, so if you need me after that, you know where to find me. Hell, you have my number if you just need to talk. I know you can't really talk to John since he's in a different country. Just call or text if you need to.”

I nodded, tearing up at how nice and generous he was being. He wound his arms around me and hugged me tightly. “Thank you.” I choked out.

“It's no problem.” He smiled once we broke apart.

“I know you're probably going to run off to message him on Facebook. He's not getting much from me so just tell him I'm okay for the most part. Don't worry him anymore than he already is. He doesn't deserve it.” He looked confused, but agreed anyways. “Good luck with the rest of your album.” I smiled weakly.

“Thanks. I hope things go well with you. You look so sad.”

I let out a weak laugh, “Thanks, Halvo.” With one last hug, we were both walking across the parking lot to our respective vehicles.

I could only hope he didn't let John know how much of a wreck I looked and had become. For some reason, I didn't think that would happen.